The rest of the journey passed amid silence, furtive glances, and the occasional muffled giggle. The sight of bursting puberty is the best antidote to nostalgia, thought Alicia.

When they came to the end of the ride, she decided to stay seated while the two priests herded the boarders away as if they were cattle. She watched the mob file past and head for the funicular station, exchanging pushes and vulgar guffaws. The more excited ones turned to look at her and share comments with their mates. Alicia waited until the priests had led them all into the funicular station, as if they were herding them into a pen, and then stepped out of the tram. She crossed the small square, her eyes riveted on the imposing facade of El Pinar crowning the hill before her.

A couple of black cars were parked by the door of the restaurant called La Venta, just a few meters from the tram stop. Alicia knew it well; it was Leandro’s favorite restaurant in the whole of Barcelona, and more than once he’d taken her there to teach her table manners and the etiquette of eating out at fancy places. An elegant young lady doesn’t just hold her knife and fork, she caresses them. Alicia put her hand in her bag, felt her revolver, and unlocked the safety catch.

The vast property of El Pinar had two entrances. The main entrance, where cars drove in, was on Calle Manuel Arnús, just over a hundred meters from the square, following the road that wound its way around the hill toward the northern end of Carretera de las Aguas. The second entrance, an iron gate leading to a path with steps through the garden, was just a short distance from the tram stop. Alicia walked over to the gate and, as she had suspected, discovered that it was locked. She continued following the property wall toward the main entrance. There was a second house there, presumably the old living quarters of the property guards, which she imagined was being watched. As she proceeded around the hill, she noticed at least one figure standing at the top, guarding the outside of the house. Hendaya probably had more men dotted around, both outside and indoors.

She stopped halfway along, at an angle where she couldn’t be seen from the main entrance, and examined the wall. It didn’t take her long to work out where Fernandito had entered the property the night before. It didn’t seem practicable in daylight. It was obvious that she would need help.

She returned to the square, where the tram was already beginning its descent, then made her way to La Venta and stepped into the restaurant. It was deserted at that time of day, and the kitchen wouldn’t open for a few hours. She walked over to the bar and sat down on one of the stools. A waiter peered out from behind a curtain and approached her with a polite smile.

“A glass of white wine, please.”